


Hitting on All Sevens

by Lissamel



Series: Inky Souls & The Depths Below (or, Lissa's Ink Machine Canon) [3]
Category: Bendy and the Ink Machine
Genre: Character Dynamics, Doesn't even use the full song, Gen, Headcanons galore!, I'm Bad At Tagging, It's kind of a songfic but it's not REALLY a songfic, Snippets, Song Lyrics
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-18
Updated: 2017-06-18
Packaged: 2018-11-15 19:03:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,846
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11237271
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lissamel/pseuds/Lissamel
Summary: In a studio such as this one, it's important for everyone to know their place.





	Hitting on All Sevens

**_ONE_ ** _ , thy animal companion _

_ At thy lap, herds with abandon _

 

Henry wasn’t essential to the success of the cartoon studio. He didn’t do anything worthy of that success. He’d  _ left _ when he went off and got  _ married _ , citing monetary concerns as the reason. When the stock market crashed, Joey Drew half anticipated Henry returning,  _ crawling _ back to beg for his job back...But he never did.

That was okay.

Henry wasn’t necessary. What did he do? Plot things out? Bounce ideas back and forth, as a creative consultant? Handle the books? Animate? All those were things that could be done by other people. There was absolutely nothing Henry could do that couldn’t be refilled by a different person altogether.

Alright, perhaps everyone could see that the air in the studio was different without the presence of Joey’s former best friend. And maybe the cartoons weren’t always...The most popular thing. And  _ maybe _ there were  _ some _ monetary concerns that  _ were _ rather troubling. The money meant they had to keep taking on more projects, making everyone else work harder, juggling multiple cartoons at once and still having to keep track of which background score went where and when Susie needed to sing something else. But that was okay! Everything was all  _ okay. _ Joey had found the answer to their money and popularity struggles, and all he had to do was get it a proper body (a  _ human _ body, it was insistent on that, this cartoon form wasn’t  _ good enough _ ), and everything was going to be absolutely fine. There was absolutely nothing to worry about.

In conclusion, Henry Wright was an unnecessary human being. The studio would be fine. Now, if Henry could just stop sending friendly letters and cards with pictures of him and his family, that would be greatly appreciated. Joey didn’t like imagining a future where Henry never left. It just upset him.

 

**_TWO_ ** _ are shepherds of the flock _

_ Who teach and cultivate thy stock _

 

Joey Drew was a man who always had a smile on his face. It didn’t matter what he was talking about, or what sort of stress he was under: he was always smiling. He had dreams in his head and stars in his eyes and ambitions swelling in his chest. He was the kind of man who never let go of his childhood whimsy and seemed enchanted with life itself. So what if one of his feet was of rather dubious quality, the disability condemning him to crutches and canes and wheelchairs? He didn’t care. No club foot in the universe could stop  _ him _ , Joseph Mortimer Drew, and his dreams of being one of the most famous cartoon creators in America.

At his work desk, Joey was sketching out a scene. An interior shot. Helena Handbasket’s Biscuit Café. It was a recurring location, the joint where Alice frequently sang at. It made for good backdrops and crowd shots, a nice little set piece for his dancing devil to play it’s tricks. He could picture the title card already.  _ A BENDY THE DANCING DEMON CARTOON! BENDY IN: A DINER DISASTER!  _ Everyone else in the studio had steered him away from his initial plans for an upcoming cartoon ( _ BENDY IN: STEAMBOAT WILLIAM, SENIOR! _ ), but this would be just as good, in his eyes. Just had to get it storyboarded, and inked, and the music added, voices recorded, sound effects made…

Alright, there was still a lot of work to be done. But it’d be no problem.

Joey drew in some background characters to fill the chairs of the café’s interior. Rabbits, mice, bats, cats...Angels. He’d barely noticed his pen making the stripes on a little angel girl’s socks, or sketching out the soft lines of the Gibson girl-esque hair of a taller angel woman. Little, innocent, naive Peggy-Anne Angel. Big, studious, generous Beatrice Angel. Joey’s smile turned a little nostalgic as he put a little blush on Peggy-Anne’s cheeks and drew in the four buttons down the front of Beatrice’s dress. These used to be beta concepts for the foil that would eventually become Alice Angel. They needed someone to counterbalance the demon’s mischief, but what? Someone small and pure, but such a sweetiepie that she was almost comical in her kindness? Or someone more disciplined, ever helpful and generous but willing to put her foot down and be the authority figure if need be? In the end, Alice was their middleground: beautiful, well-respected, proper, not one to put up with  _ too _ much of the demon’s antics but also not one to be all sanctimonious. 

Henry had spent a  _ lot _ of time assuring him that Alice was the right choice. Joey was never  _ sure _ , always wanting his cartoons to be the best they could be. If they weren’t the best, how would he ever be famous? This was his passion, his heart and soul. Henry had ruffled his dark hair affectionately and said that Joey would  _ always _ be famous to him. That had put Joey’s mind at ease, and the designs for both Peggy-Anne and Beatrice had been scrapped for the time being, though it was Henry’s idea to just use them for crowd shots since the two of them already knew the designs by…

Joey scratched out the two angels with his pen.

Henry was  _ gone. _ Henry had  _ abandoned _ him, had  _ abandoned _ their dream. Henry never gave these characters the respect they deserved. Henry didn’t  _ care _ . In a show of spite, Joey crumpled up the sketch and threw it into the corner of his office, where it landed in an ink puddle he wasn’t so sure was there before. He let out a loud exhale, closing his eyes and running his hand up his face in agitation, practically pushing his spectacles to his forehead from the motion. 

The ink puddle burbled, then dragged the paper down.

_ Gee, I’m sorry about that drawin’, Joey, pal. Why don’cha get one’a the other animators ‘ta do it for ‘ya? I don’t want you wastin’ any more ink an’ paper on some bad memories. _

Joey quickly pulled his hand down, glasses falling back to his nose. He looked around the office, but he couldn’t see whoever (or whatever) had spoken to him. He reached for his stack of papers, taking out a clean sheet and sketching out a series of glyphs, murmuring to himself. Then he leaned back in his chair, chewing on the end of his pen as he observed his drawings.

Maybe there was more work to be done than he previously thought.

 

**_THREE_ ** _ of poultry, three of feather _

_ Grace thy halls with silk and heather _

 

Joey was usually okay to walk, which he appreciated. He didn’t like being stuck in that wheelchair. Besides, he wasn’t a particularly tall man even when standing, sitting down all the time only made him shorter, which admittedly did peeve him a bit. Leaning against his walking cane, Joey knocked on the door to a small private office. He could hear speaking on the other side, but nobody answered the door. The man laughed, grinning as he pushed open the door himself.

“‘That is because you have no brains. No matter how dreary and gray our homes are, we people of flesh and blood would rather live there than in any other country, be it ever so beautiful. There is no place like home.’”

Susie Campbell had a voice that could fill a room. With that in mind, it was no surprise she hadn’t heard her boss knocking. She was pacing around her office,  _ The Wonderful Wizard of Oz _ held in one hand (a signed copy, she’d excitedly told just about everyone in the studio), reading lines from the book in her Alice Angel voice. It was her way of practicing. She turned on the heel of her pumps, paging through the book to find another line to say. Her eyes flicked up. “O-oh! Mister Drew!” She closed her book and clasped it to her chest. “Did you need me for anything?”

“Matter of fact, I do.” Joey took a couple of steps into her office, making some gestures with his free hand. “We’re going to need you to sing for the next cartoon. If you could get on some vocal warmups and then meet me in the recording room so we can do some takes, that would be just swell.”

Susie straightened a bit. “Well, of course! You know I’d absolutely love to,” She turned, putting the book back on her desk and taking just a moment to make sure her curly blonde hair looked alright before turning back around...And laughing a bit to herself when she noticed Joey hadn’t actually left yet. “Something on your mind, there, Mister Drew?”

A shine went over his glasses. “You know, Susie, you’re a godsend.” She laughed, smiling (she always had dimples when she smiled like that). “I mean it!” He insisted, coming a bit closer, once again making elaborate hand gestures with his free hand. “Do you know how many times I realize how  _ lucky _ I am to have found you?  _ You _ ! Someone  _ worthy _ of giving a voice, no, giving  _ life _ to one of my creations! I thought I’d  _ never _ find someone worthy of being Alice, among others. You’re just--You’re a  _ peach _ , Susie. I thought you needed to hear it.”

She was blushing like mad at the flattery, letting out a modest chuckle. “Aw, Mister Drew, you don’t have to say those things about me…” Her hands clasped, some eagerness slipping into her tone as she asked, “Do you think Sammy is right, then? That she’ll be as popular as Bendy someday?”

Joey’s smile grew a little wider. “No!” His voice stayed chipper even as Susie’s face fell. “Anyhow, that’s just about all I had to say. I’ll be seeing you in the recording room, then! Don’t you dilly-dally. Time is money, that’s what father used to tell me!” With just the slightest bit of flourish, as though he were a conman at a carnival trying to make a show of his every motion, Joey turned to the door and exited Susie’s office.

Susie was left staring at the doorway, blinking a couple of times. She exhaled, shaking her head with a lopsided smile. Joey could be...Interesting to work for, sometimes. Always up in his own head. It was his best quality, his imagination, so she thought. Then she smoothed out her hair again, and adjusted her dress so it looked just the slightest bit more presentable on her plump figure, and she left her office as well. 

 

**_FOUR_ ** _ for birds of song and hymn _

_ That chirp devotion by thy whim _

 

“Zing, zing-a-rah, zing-a-rah, zing-a-rah, zing-a-rah.”

Sammy Lawrence had seven background pieces to complete by Wednesday. It was workloads like these that made him grind his teeth into stumps, the stress keeping him up at night and the dark rings around his eyes visible for all to see. If anybody else had asked him to do some vocal warmups, he would have demanded they get out of his office without a second thought. But even  _ he _ , nigh-perpetual sourpuss he was these days, couldn’t reject a request from  _ Susie. _ He could repurpose some leitmotifs he’d made as a timesaving measure, he figured as he advanced a chord higher on the piano. The two of them continued in such a way for a short while, Sammy playing the chords and Susie singing her nonsense syllables, until the notes got too high for her alto voice range and she had to stop. “Do you think that sounded good? I want to be at my best for today.”

“Sounded fine to me,” He said, beginning to tap out a scale, eyes half-lidded...Though he stopped in the middle of it, exhaling through his teeth. “Susie? Can I ask something quick?”

“You always can.”

“Why…” His eyes shut and he pinched the bridge of his (rather prominent) nose to gather his thoughts together. “Why would you  _ stay _ here?” When Sammy opened his eyes again, his eyes met Susie’s perplexed expression. “Listen, Susie. You’re nice, okay? You have a nice voice, and you can sing, and everybody likes you, and all that. Why stick around more than you have to? I know first chance I get, I’m taking my bassoon and playing for some big Hollywood orchestra. What about you? Go into acting, or maybe on radio, or... _ Anything? _ ”

She blinked once or twice. Her head tilted. There was a full minute or two where she looked perplexed that anyone would ask such a thing. But then she smiled one of her big shining and dimple-making smiles. “What could be better than working at a place I love with some of the best people I could ever hope to meet?”

It was the single most Susie-sounding answer she could have given. The sheer corniness of it was enough to get a laugh out of Sammy--A rare sound indeed. His laughter made  _ her _ laugh, too, and for just a moment the two of them laughed together on either side of the piano. “ _ Oh _ , Susie. You’re a lost cause,” He meant it endearingly, and she knew it. Sammy took just a moment to compose himself. “You’d better get to the recording room if Joey’s waiting for you. You sound great. You’ll do great in there. Now, hurry up.”

“Going, going,” Her eyes were gleaming as she went around the piano. She stopped, eyes catching on something. “Oh, Sammy?”

“Yeah?”

“You have a stain on your shoulder again.”

Any cheer the music director had was immediately wiped off of his face. His head snapped over to his right shoulder, where, indeed, a big black patch stared back at him. He dabbed at it with his fingers and let out a groan when soft blackness stained his fingertips. “I  _ just _ washed--!” Another, louder groan. “I’m going to start charging Joey for cleaning, I  _ mean _ it this time…” Sammy got up, grumbling curses to himself as he trudged his way back to his office, most likely once again making plans to just quit working here.

Susie sighed as he left. But she knew he wouldn’t quit. Times were hard--Everyone needed the stability. So she straightened up and made her own way to the recording room so she, too, could do her part.

 

**_FIVE,_ ** _ in cover, watch and wait _

_ Sniffing out thy truth and straight _

 

There was always a congregation of crumbs by, and inside, Sammy’s office. Crumbs and half-bitten bits of nuts. Sammy enjoyed his pecan sandies, and he didn’t particularly care if he made a mess with them--He was always stressed, he  _ deserved _ some cookies every now and then. Which would be fine...If Joey wasn’t so worried about rats getting into the studio and gnawing at the papers and desks. Lucky for Joey, the studio happened to have a devoted janitor with a broom and dustpan.

Wally was whistling as he swept up the crumbs, hopping over the threshold of Sammy’s door and making a pile. Sammy was busy composing something at his desk, though he didn’t immediately shoo out Wally for being disruptive--That was new. Something was probably on his mind. He paused in his sweeping as he glanced around the floor for any more crumbs, coming closer to Sammy’s desk, hesitating in his whistling…

“ _ Rise with the moon, go to bed with the sun…” _

...Wait. Was Sammy singing along, just under his breath? Wally’s mouth became a cheeky grin. “ _ Early to bed, and you’ll miss all the fun!”  _ He sung along, and the two of them continued in tandem (though not necessarily in perfect harmony), “ _ Bring your wife and trouble, it will never trouble you, make her a member of the-- _ ”

“Wuh--Wally!” Sammy barked, looking up from his work. With a yelp, Wally backed up a few paces. “You--You  _ ruined _ my work! Look at this,  _ look at this _ !” He held up his paper for the janitor to see, to which Wally just tilted his head in blatant confusion. Sammy sighed. “Look at the bottom. I was writing the note sequence from that song! I can’t turn this in and now I have to start over, so,  _ thank you _ , Wally. Now get out.”

Sammy turned back to his desk, and Wally put one of his hands on his hip. “‘Ey, you know I’m sorry, Sammy. Didn’t mean no harm by  _ whistlin’ _ .” A pause. Sammy didn’t acknowledge him, trying to copy down the song before it was ruined. “...You need a cigar, Lawrence? You don’t seem too well put-together.”

For just a second, the music director seemed to consider it. He shook his head (which made a bit of his brown hair spring back up--His hair was very bad at agreeing with his otherwise professional appearance). “What I  _ need _ ,” He reached to the corner of his desk, picking up a mug and taking a drink from it, “Is more coffee. And also for you to stop  _ distracting _ me.”

“I could go an’ ask Mister Drew to make ‘ya some more, if y’need it.” Wally offered, shifting so he was leaning against his broom and crossing one ankle over the other. “Y’know he really likes ‘ya. I’m sure he could make another pot, lickety-split.”

Some of the firmness (though not all of it) came off of Sammy’s face as he stopped his work. He leaned back in his chair, gazing up at the gangly janitor, with his hopelessly messy red-brown hair and his face full of freckles and his toothy grin. What an obnoxious man, just in appearance alone. “...You know what? Yeah. That would be nice,” He said, and Wally straightened, nodding a couple of times before walking back to his cookie crumb pile and sweeping it up into his dustpan. “Wally? Do you drink the coffee here?” He asked, unprompted, voice a bit quieter than it had been.

“Yep, all th’ time. Why?”

“Has it been...Tasting weird to you? I think mine’s been off recently.”

Without missing a beat, Wally just cheerfully shrugged. “Well, if you’re not bringin’ your own milk an’ sugar, that’s on  _ you. _ Y’know how Joey likes his drink,” A bounce in his step, Wally went back out of Sammy’s office, calling over his shoulder, “Be back!”

That wasn’t exactly what Sammy had  _ meant _ , though if Wally didn’t taste anything wrong with the coffee, maybe it was just his imagination. He took another drink before getting back to work.

 

**_SIX_ ** _ are beasts that prey and gnaw _

_ Explain the word with tooth and claw _

 

“Oh, I ain’t ever gonna hear th’ end of  _ this _ one...There’s gotta be a hole in my pockets or  _ somethin’ _ ...Where’d they go!?”

Almost everyone else had gone home by now, but not Wally. He’d packed up all of his cleaning supplies and mechanical gear into closets, and he was  _ ready _ to go back home, but he couldn’t, not yet, and for very good reasons: he’d lost his keys. And not just  _ any _ keys, because he’d made a habit of keeping all his keys on separate key rings: the keys to the animation offices. If Joey found out, he’d be  _ fired _ , not to mention probably gutted like a fish. Wally was crawling on the ground in search, padding along the floor and searching in every darkened corner he could, shaking dust off of his hands. He needed to find them...He  _ needed _ to find them...He needed to--!

“ _ Ow _ ! W-watch it, will ‘ya? I’m tryin’ to…” Wally had collided head-on with something, and he rubbed the top of his head as he looked up to see what it was. He blanched a bit. Leaning forward slightly was the face of Norman Polk. Norman wasn’t too tall, but he was rotund, and always had a  _ presence  _ to him that just seemed to come naturally. He frequently denied rumors started by the band that he had ties to the mafia, but right now, Wally couldn’t help but wonder if that was true. Quickly, the janitor got up, practically stumbling over his own two feet. “Ah! N-Norman! Sorry, didn’t mean t’ be rude or anythin’, I just--Well, you know--Cleanin’?”

The hasty sort of excuse put a lopsided smile on Norman’s face. “You lost somethin’ again, didn’t you, Wally Franks?”

A sheepish laugh left him. “That obvious?” He asked, to which Norman nodded, and Wally nodded back. “Animation office keys. I can’t find them  _ anywhere _ ! And if I can’t find ‘em, who  _ knows _ how long overdue th’ ‘toons will be…” Nervously, he began playing with his hair, eyes meeting Norman’s. “...You haven’t seen them anywhere, have ‘ya?”

Norman shifted his weight, chest puffing out a bit and a sheen going over his glasses. “Might have,” He replied, “Though I can’t lie, watchin’ you feel around down there  _ is _ a bit of a hoot.” Wally went red (in embarrassment or anger, it was hard to say) as one of Norman’s hands went into the pocket of his black waistcoat, pulling out the missing keys. The janitor’s eyes lit up, and he reached to snatch the keys--But Norman pulled them back. “Now, now, I won’t tell Mister Drew about this blunder. All  _ you _ have to do is make sure he don’t catch wind of where  _ I  _ was last weekend. Do you get it?”

“You were out gamblin’ again, weren’t ‘ya? You  _ know _ you could get fired, keepin’ that up…”

Norman’s face went steely. Wally shut his mouth. The band conductor dropped the keys into Wally’s waiting hands. “Like I said, Wally--We’re not tellin’ Mister Drew about  _ any _ of that. I can trust you, right?”

“Always! Wouldn’t tell a soul.” He made some crossing motions over his heart, and that seemed to sate Norman. The janitor shoved the keys into his pocket again before rocking back on his feet, saluting to Norman, and beginning to leave the building. “Well, I’m outta’ here! See you tomorrow, Norman! Don’t be gettin’ into any more trouble!”

“I could say the same for you,” He called, turning the opposite way and chuckling to himself. Wally sure was some  _ character. _ Now he understood why Mister Drew sometimes speculated rotoscoping Wally for one of the cartoons--He practically moved like an animated figure to begin with. He put his hands in the pockets of his pants as he went down the hallway to collect a few personal possessions and leave...But he hesitated. He turned around. Was he being followed?

...No, he wasn’t. There was only a grinning cardboard cut-out of the little cartoon devil in the middle of the hallway behind him.

“...Your pranks ain’t very funny, Wally,” He muttered to himself, turning back around and picking up the pace.

 

**_SEVEN:_ ** _ Working horses haul _

_ Their mighty labors ‘til they _

_ Fall in line _

 

Over the long, long years, the studio had fallen into disrepair. People left, in one way or another. Ink began seeping not only from the Ink Machine’s pipes, but also from every crack in the ceiling or floor or walls. Papers yellowed and crumbled. The once pristine wood became stained with drawings or writing. Some parts of the building rotted. Other parts flooded. Still others were in remarkably good condition, for the state of the building.

But just because the building was falling apart didn’t mean it was  _ empty. _

Someone was stalking around the lower floor, sliding what constituted as feet along the ground. The figure seemed to be searching for something, something to give up, to sacrifice. He was humming to himself, some broken fragments of old songs. The ink of his body was softly dripping, fingertips staining the wall as he traced them against it.

His feet stopped moving as he found something in the hallway. It was an overturned book, looking like it had been dropped, or perhaps forced out of someone’s hand. The cover showed a lion wearing spectacles and red and green text making up the words  _ The Wonderful Wizard of Oz.  _ Colors? Why, when had been the last time he’d seen more than blacks, whites, browns, oranges, or grays? The figure stooped down onto his haunches to get a closer look. It wasn’t a particularly thick book, but if he rationed off the pages well enough, it could make for multiple offerings. What a generous gift it would be! He reached out, picking the book up by it’s binding, inky fingers blotting the cover.

Something fell out from between the pages.

The something caught the figure’s eye, and he paused, taking his free hand and snatching it up by the corner. It was a photograph, entirely in grayscale. It showed an outdoor scene, in front of a large and important-looking cinema. There were people lined up in the picture. A man with a cane and spectacles and an excited gleam in his eye. A gangly man with knobby joints and many freckles in the middle of a laugh. A roundish man with glasses and a boisterous sort of grin. A lady with dimples and a thrilled look on her face. A man with half-smoothed hair, a birdlike nose, and a reluctant smile. The figure stared at the photograph for a long, long time; pulling the image up closer to his face (or, rather, the mask that he always wore) in order to observe it even closer. Something about it was stirring some part of his memory, yet he couldn’t--

_ What’cha got there, Sammy-boy? _

Fear flickered across Sammy Lawrence’s face. He was quick to hide it, stuffing the photograph inside the front cover of the book. “...It...It is a children’s story, my lord. I thought it would prove to be an acceptable gift to your grace, as you enjoy many sorts of stories.”

_ Nya ha ha! You sure know me well, Sammy-boy, an’ that’s why I love ‘ya.  _ A pause. Bendy’s voice, echoing from within Sammy’s head, suddenly became a little less cheery.  _ But I think you knew that’s not what I meant. _

“I--I am unaware as to what else you could possibly be referring to.”

_ Are ‘ya sure? You should know by now how I feel about liars… _

The ink making up Sammy’s body seemed to loosen, seemed to drip all the more in his fright. “D-do not punish me, oh, savior! I--” His fingers tightened against the book, “It is true I happened upon one more thing, however, I have sp-spared you from it. It is something unworthy of your divine eyes, oh, ink demon. Something like a rat. Unworthy of your love, unworthy of your sight, an unworthy sacrifice.”

_ You tellin’ the truth? I don’t wanna hav’ta get in there an’ show ‘ya what I think of unworthy things...Like unworthy prophets, for one. _

“I-I would never lie to you, my lord. May the wicked angel herself descend from above and tear out my tongue and every tooth should I ever try!”

This was met with a long, long moment of silence, Sammy quivering, ink flicking off of his body from the motion. But the silence was eventually broken.  _ Oh, Sammy-boy, always lookin’ out for me! Maybe someday, I’ll give ‘ya a prize, an’ you’ll love it! You keep doin’ all yer doin’, leadin’ the flock. I can’t wait for the new gifts! Toodles! _

The voice in his head went silent. Sammy stilled his nerves. The ink on his body solidified a bit more. Keeping the book close, he began down the hallway once again, already planning out his next ritual. This was his place. The ink demon had dictated that this was so.

You see, all those people may have had  _ jobs. _ They may have had lives, families, and other silly things like those. But those weren’t their  _ place. _ Only Bendy knew their  _ true _ place, and Bendy would deliver everyone to those places.

Sammy’s place was as the prophet, as someone useful, someone to play around with and order and bend and break, like a wind-up toy.

Susie and Norman’s place was to be gone, to stay out of the way while the demon collected it’s due. They were irrelevant. Killed or corrupted, who cared whatever became of them? Wally was supposed to be of this category too, but Bendy had gotten a pleasant surprise when Sammy had stabbed the tip of a pen into his throat and offered up the janitor as a sacrificial lamb. It was nice to know this wind-up toy would  _ kill _ for Bendy, if it wanted him to.

Speaking of kill, Joey’s place was to be dead and gone. Bendy couldn’t  _ wait _ for that day. That  _ coward _ of a  _ creator _ sure was taking his sweet time facing the consequences of all his dreams, though, so right now, all the demon could do was lie in wait.

And Henry?

Well.

There was an end of that initial deal that was never upheld. Sure, Joey had made this inky cartoon form out of a cumbersome machine and some of it’s own demonic magic, but it just wasn’t cutting it. Bendy wanted something  _ better.  _ Something  _ stronger.  _ More  _ durable. _

Henry would fit that bill  _ very nicely. _

 

_ Fall in line _

_ Fall in line _

**Author's Note:**

> Apparently people like my headcanons? That's rad! How about you have some more of them!
> 
> Anyway. I really like writing my interpretations of these characters, and I'm still honored you guys all like reading them so much. Have some stuff from before everything went...Really downhill.
> 
> The song lyrics used are from 'Hitting on All Sevens', from 'Alleluia! The Devil's Carnival'. Both Devil's Carnival movies have really nice music. Though why all my Bendy fics thus far happen to include song lyrics to some degree...I'll never know.
> 
> Hope you enjoyed!


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